


Wasted on You

by typicaltorii



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders - Freeform, Background Logicality - Freeform, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders - Freeform, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, Logic | Logan Sanders - Freeform, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rating May Change, Sanders Sides (Video Blogging RPF), human!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typicaltorii/pseuds/typicaltorii
Summary: Virgil drinks to escape the fact that he is in love with his frustrating-annoying-arrogant-thickheaded-flamboyant roommate, Roman.





	1. Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This work includes HEAVY drinking, so please be wary.

_This is stupid._

_It’s all stupid._

_He’s so stupid._

Virgil was stuck in this stupid loop of thoughts, head hanging limply as he slouched in the hallway, avoiding eye contact from everyone passing him on the way to the kitchen. Yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to take up residence in the middle of a crowded hallway at a party thrown by his good friend Roman. But honestly? He couldn’t think of a better place to sit. All of the couches and chairs were already taken and he didn’t want to bother anyone by asking them to move. 

It was silly to be hiding from crowds in his own apartment really, let alone hiding from his roommates. If Patton saw how absolutely gone he was, there would no doubt be a headache-inducing lecture the minute he sobered up. Logan, the jerk, would probably record his drunken ramblings. 

And Roman… 

Virgil didn’t want to think about the concern coloring his stupid _cockyinfuriatinghandsomeattractiveface._ He didn’t want to think about the questions he would ask, always bordering on ‘why’. ‘Why, Virgil?’ 

And honestly, Virgil couldn’t give him a straight answer. 

_Lol. Straight. Ha._

Virgil couldn’t help but giggle at his own stupid joke in his head before going to take another swig of the beer he had been nursing before pulling the bottle away, glaring at the lack of contents in it. Virgil huffed before leaning heavily against the wall into something resembling a standing position before stumbling closer to the bright lights in the kitchen, the only place in the whole house were the overhead lights were on. Patton and Roman had spent all day stringing fairy lights from the ceiling in preparation for this end-of-term party. Roman had laughed when Virgil said no one would notice the effort before looping a string of lights around Virgil’s shoulders and tugging him closer, telling the slightly shorter man that fairy lights suited him. 

Virgil physically tensed at the memory, his blush hidden well with the redness of his face due to being, in Logan’s words, ‘horribly intoxicated’. Virgil hadn’t even noticed that he was already in the kitchen, the fridge door open and a new bottle of beer in his hands. His head was swimming and he had enough sense to realize that he was dangerously close to blacking out. 

_Good._ Virgil thought, smiling as he slowly closed the door, too afraid to move too quickly. He didn’t realize how unbalanced he was before, swaying on his feet like he was at sea. He leaned against the counter next to the fridge, intent on ignoring the two girls next to him blatantly groping each other as the made out against the stove, and popping the cap of the beer in one movement. Maybe he did this too often if he could open the tops of beer like a reflex. 

He didn’t know how long he was leaning against the counter, but the next thing he knew his beer was half gone and the girls had disappeared, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He could hear the laughter of the party down the hall and, despite his best effort, could pick out Roman’s like a diamond amongst rhinestones. It was so clear, full of joy and gusto that made Virgil’s stomach flip. Virgil had been gone the first time he heard it. 

Suddenly, a hand was on Virgil’s shoulder, causing him to jump and nearly drop his beer. Thank god he had enough common sense to keep his grip tight. His head swung loosely to his right, seeing deep brown eyes looking at him from behind black glasses. 

“Patton,” Virgil cheered, smiling broadly at his bestest friend in the world. Patton’s smile was genuine, if not tinged with a bit of concern at the state of the boy clad in black. 

“Hey there, bud,” Patton said, clapping Virgil lightly on the shoulder one last time before removing his hand, “How are you doing?” 

Virgil knew it was a trick question. Or maybe it was genuine. 

He shrugged, smile still strong as he shrugged. His shoulders didn’t really move at the same time, and it kinda threw his balance off a bit and he placed a hand on the counter behind him to steady himself. He tried shrugging one last time, both shoulders cooperating and Virgil could make out himself saying, “M’good. Having fun.” 

Patton, even though he was looking at Virgil with his too-accurate fatherly stare, snickered, “You seem like it.” He glanced at the beer hanging in Virgil’s hand and his brows furrowing slightly. “How much have you had, champ?” 

Virgil tried to remember exactly how much he consumed. The night was pretty crystal clear at the beginning of the party, but the Roman offered him a shot of Skyy, and he just couldn’t refuse, especially when Roman insisted that they should cross their arms like newlyweds. After that, Roman insisted on one more, and then maybe another. So...three? No wait he had a shot of whiskey with Logan. Four? Plus some beers… 

“Mmmm. Four,” Virgil mumbled, head lolling a bit to the side as he tried to remember, “No, five.” 

Patton just smiled softly as he looked Virgil up and down before softly sliding Virgil’s hand off the beer he was holding, placing it on the counter next to Virgil before crossing the kitchen, pulling out a purple plastic cup and filling it with water. 

“Awwww, you remembered which one is my favorite,” Virgil smiled loosely as he took the cup from Patton. Patton just grinned before nodding and loosely draping an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil rested his head back on the cabinets above his head, closing his eyes. “Do you know how much I, like, love you? You’re such a dad. It’s so good.” 

Virgil knew he was slurring his speech like a trashed girl at their first kegger, but his head was just brimming with the adoration for his best friend. Patton laughed a small snort. 

“You tell me every time you get tanked, Virge. But thanks. Love you too,” Patton squeezed Virgil’s shoulder and the two lapsed into silence as they listened to some remix of a pop song Roman definitely picked out. 

_Does he even know I love him?_

“Does who know,” Patton questioned, and Virgil’s eyes shot open. He had just said that out loud. Oh _shitshitshitshit-_

“No one,” Virgil said, too quickly, and when he looked over at Patton, he could tell by the look on his friend’s face that this topic was not going away as soon as Virgil wanted it to. 

Patton’s virtue was patience, and it wore Virgil to the bone sometimes, because Patton waited for Virgil to say something, anything, as he stared at the wasted man next to him. Virgil could feel his insides setting fire to himself and suddenly all he could think of is that one Spongebob scene where there’s like a dozen little Spongebobs running around his brain, burning everything that isn’t fine dining and breathing- 

“Virgil,” Patton called, snapping Virgil from his trance and drawing his eyes to meet his, “Buddy? You okay?” Patton was standing in front of Virgil now, both hands firmly on the swaying guy’s shoulders, holding him steady. 

But the rocking motion didn’t stop, and Virgil belatedly realized that the burning in his stomach was getting worse, and suddenly the ground lurched dangerously towards him as Virgil doubled over, hand flying to his mouth to keep himself from spilling all of the alcohol in his system on their linoleum kitchen floor. 

“Oh god, okay, let’s get you to the bathroom,” Patton straightened up the man in front of him, removing the purple cup out of Virgil’s hands, draping an arm around Virgil’s shoulders and guiding him out of the kitchen and into the mood-lit living room. 

Virgil was staggering through the press of bodies, cringing as the music blasted from what seemed like every corner of the room and blanching at the heat of the partygoers. He was putting up a good fight against the vomit welling up inside him, but he was losing and quickly. 

Someone called Patton’s name and Patton stopped to shout something over his shoulder before continue the short but agonizingly long trek across the living room and down a side hall to the bathroom. The minute the door was in view, Virgil lurched from Patton’s grip, slamming into the door and clumsily turning the knob, left hand grabbing his jaw in desperation. 

_Comeoncomeoncomeon-_

The door swung open, and Virgil didn’t even try to turn on the light as he dropped to his knees, heaving into the toilet as bile raced up his throat. 

“Virgil...oh god…,” Patton soothed from the doorway, head pointedly turned away from the spectacle that was his friend. Virgil was kinda amazed that Patton was pretending not to be squeamish, considering the fatherly friend couldn’t stand the sight/smell/sound of vomiting. Virgil was even more impressed when Patton testing himself by placing a solid hand in the middle of Virgil’s back, rubbing a small circle in between Virgil’s shoulder blades. 

“Hey, Logan told me to come here. What’s- oh no,” Virgil could hear his voice and didn’t even need to look at him to know Roman was standing right outside the doorway. His voice was frenzied, pitched a little higher than normal with nervousness. Virgil could bet his last shred of sanity that Roman had just abandoned flirting with some drama nerd, using his stupid _lameinsufferablecharming_ pick up lines on a guy that definitely wasn’t worth it, rushing to the bathroom to his angsty, vaguely goth roommate praying to the porcelain gods in all his drunken glory. 

A hand was sweeping across Virgil’s clammy forehead, lifting the bangs away from his eyes and allowing a small cool reprieve to sooth the exhausted man. Virgil leaned into the touch, eyes closed as he sat back, acidic burns scorching his throat and making him caught slightly. 

“You,” Roman’s voice was so very close _tooclosewaytooclose_ , “Are way too drunk, Hot Topic.” 

If Virgil was anymore sober and also not at his all time low, he may have snarked at Roman’s stupid nickname for him, but as it stands, Virgil was exhausted and nauseous and just too done to really deal with the banter right now. Virgil peeked one eye open, seeing the worried smile on Roman’s face, and finally registered that it was Roman’s hand still pushing Virgil’s bangs up and away from his face. 

“M’not drunk,” Virgil defied lamely, tilting his head back and causing Roman’s hand to fall away. Sadly, it didn’t do much about the not-even-a-foot’s-worth of space between them, and there was no reasonable escape from the bathroom without passing Roman. Patton was gone from the doorway - how long had he been gone? - and now there was no one else to look over him except the one guy he had spent all night avoiding. 

Roman was smiling softly, but his brow was still creased and the glimmer of concern was still strong in his brown eyes as he looked over Virgil’s face. He finally sighed through his nose, eyes casting downward as he murmured, “Sure, Virgil.” He moved out of his kneeling position, standing and turning to exit the bathroom. 

But he didn’t. Because, without Virgil’s volition, Virgil’s pale hand had reached up and grabbed desperately at Roman’s before he could move any further away. Roman looked at their connected hands before following the arm to Virgil’s open expression. 

Virgil didn’t ask, never would have to begin with, but it was clear what he was trying to say. 

_Stay._

The corners of Roman’s mouth quirked up, different from his princely grin or devastatingly gorgeous bravado smile. It was softer, just barely a whisper of amusement, and Virgil could feel the racing of his heart. This was Roman’s rarest smile, and he had only seen the man use it for special occasions. 

“Okay,” Roman said, closing the bathroom door and turning on the overhead light. It cast Roman in a heavenly golden glow as he slid down the bathroom door, not even a foot from Virgil. Virgil shifted off his knees, leaning against the wall opposite the door and letting his legs drape over Roman’s at the knee. If he was anymore sober, he would have shied away from the physical contact, but the bathroom was small and there wasn’t a lot of space for both of them to sit and his body was craving the sensation of Roman’s body more than he would ever admit sober. 

“So,” Roman said slowly, eyes never leaving Virgil as he talked, “You wanna explain the excessive drinking or should I just let it go?” 

“Let go,” Virgil murmured, cursing when he realized his sentence didn’t make sense and he repeated, “Let it go. S’nothin.” 

Roman was playing with his hands in his lap and watched as fingers wound themselves together. He didn’t say anything for a minute, but when he did, his voice was missing the usual luster it normally had, “Doesn’t seem like nothing.” He looked up at Virgil, sighing as he continued. “This is the third time this month, Virgil, that I’ve seen you completely wreck yourself at some party on campus. When we first met, you didn’t even like drinking all that much, and honestly, I thought maybe if you were home, I would be able to keep a little closer of an eye on you. I was gonna cut you off after three shots but I turned around and you were gone.” 

Virgil shrunk under his crush’s stare, disappointment making his stomach flip again. 

“I just...Virgil, we’re worried. Me and Patton and Logan - don’t scoff, he really is - and we don’t know what’s eating away at your so violently that you drink like this,” Roman wasn’t looking at Virgil and for some reason, that was almost worse, because now Roman’s hands were covering his face and his shoulders were sagging so low. This...wasn’t Roman-like at all. 

Virgil’s tongue was knotted a thousand ways to Sunday and he was pretty sure that if it wasn’t words escaping his mouth, it may just be the rest of the shots he had at the beginning of the night. Virgil rested his head against the way, trying to breathe deeply through his nose, but now he was hot with shame and Roman’s words were echoing uncomfortable through his head, ricocheting off each other again and again. 

Because _of course_ his friends were worried. Why wouldn’t they be? Not only was Virgil living with them, they had been friends since basically the first day of school, Patton being their way-too-eager campus guide as he dragged Logan, Roman and him around campus. They were a cohesive unit, like several parts of one whole, and above that, he was fricking _in love_ with Roman. God, how could he put his friends through this? How could he be so stupid _stupidstupidstupid-_

“Stop,” Roman reprimanded, and Virgil hadn’t even noticed that he had started muttering his self-hate out loud and not in his head where it usually was. Virgil picked his head off the wall, looking over at Roman, but Roman was really blurry and for some reason he felt something went hit his expose arm and- 

“Oh, Virge,” Roman sighed, his eyebrows upturned and a frown maring his flawless features as he extended his arms, pulling Virgil nearly in his lap as he enveloped him a tight hug. Virgil stiffened, hands never moving from their clenched position in his lap. “Please, please, don’t cry. Please.” 

Virgil couldn’t stop, though, as tears continue to pour down his cheeks and onto the collar of Roman’s loose gray polo. Roman had one hand firmly on the back of Virgil’s head, fingers twisting into his hair, and Virgil promised himself that if there was one thing from tonight he would commit to memory, it was the feeling of Roman’s hand in his hair. Roman was gently shooshing Virgil, whispering assurances into his ear. “It’s okay. Please talk to me. Please. Everything’s okay,” Roman’s mantra thrummed in Virgil’s ear and Virgil couldn’t help the choked noise that escape him. 

“But s’not, Roman, it’s really not,” Virgil’s voice wavered and he hated it but he couldn’t do anything about it, “Nothing’s okay I’m not okay _I’mnotokaynotokay_.” 

“Talk to me, Virgil.” 

“I can’t!” 

Virgil pulled away, not being able to escape the hand on the back of his neck, a solid weight pulling him to the ground before he could lose it all over again. He couldn’t meet Roman’s eyes, not wanting to see the pain in them. 

“Why?!” 

“Because,” Virgil hiccuped, squeezing his eyes shut as his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “It’s you. _It’syouit’syouit’syou_.” 

His words were met with silence. Deafening, crushing, silence. 

Roman’s hand was still on the back of Virgil’s neck, but Roman was a thousand miles away. After a beat, Roman removed his hand slowly, cautiously removing Virgil was his reach. Virgil was shaking with the effort to keep his sobs contained, barely letting a whimper past his lips. He couldn’t open his eyes, wouldn’t even try, because he couldn’t watch as Roman opened the door and shut it behind him with one, final click. 

The minute Virgil realized he was alone, he couldn’t restrict himself any longer and sobbed alone in a bathroom that suddenly felt far too big for just himself.


	2. Hungover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhhhhhh I wish I was good at writing angst ffs

Virgil jolted awake, throat burning, in his bedroom, and had no recollection on how he got there. He couldn’t remember...anything, actually. He didn’t even try to think about it, because with every heartbeat, his head pounded something fierce and was ultimately debilitating. His limbs were made of lead and he eyes stung viciously every time he tried to open them.

Virgil let out a gutteral groan as he rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, relishing in the slight relief they gave him.

“You’re awake,” Patton’s voice was soft infront him, and Virgil dared to open one eye, looking up through lashes to see Patton leaning on the side of the bed, head resting on his crossed arms as he knelt next to...not Virgil’s bed.

“Where am I,” Virgil croaked, bringing his hand away to take a better look around the pastel colored room.

Patton’s smile was soft as he whispered, “My room. Logan and I got you up here after Roman told us to check on you. You were wiped out, slugger.” Virgil processed what Patton was saying at the rate of a snail, before piecing a few things together.

“Did I...throw up last night,” Virgil asked, propping himself on his elbow and realizing he was currently bare-chested. He draped an arm across his chest self-consciously and marveled at the softness of Patton’s bed. His throat was so raw, he had no doubt Patton was going to say yes.

Patton nodded, adjusting his position and pushing his glasses a little further up his nose, “Yeah. You drank way too much last night. Thank god Roman was there to help. God knows I wouldn’t have been the best in that situation.”

Virgil’s face paled at Patton’s words.

“Roman saw me puke,” Virgil blurted, trying not to focus on the heat of embarrassment that was crawling up his neck. “Oh, no no no, that is not good.”

Patton looked confused as Virgil flopped back into bed, causing another spike of pain to shoot between his temples and drawing a grunt out of the hungover mess.

“Why not,” Patton asked lightly, observing the youngest of the roommates as he pushed a cup of water a few painkillers into Virgil’s upturned hands. Virgil downed all three pills in one go, barely holding the cup of water for a second before handing it back at his caring friend.

“Aw, the purple cup. My favorite,” Virgil muttered, hoping to take Patton’s attention away from the topic at hand, but Patton wasn’t having it. Patton sat next to the bed, looking down at the pale boy wrapped up in his light blue comforter.

“Why isn’t it okay,” Patton repeated, eyebrows quirking together and staring a hole nearly through Virgil, “Roman’s seen you wasted like that before.”

Virgil wished desperately for a meteor to crash through the roof and kill him instantly because, despite his best judgement, he was actually genuinely toying with the idea of telling Patton the truth that has been swimming in his head since the beginning of the year. “...It’s just...not.”

Patton wasn’t stupid. Virgil knew he could piece together the puzzle with a bit of context clues. It took about thirty seconds of Virgil avoiding his eyes for Patton’s face to break into realization, and then into a defeated grin.

“Oh man. It’s Roman, isn’t it?”

Virgil’s cheeks were crimson before Patton could even finish the sentence, only confirming the boy’s guess. Patton’s megawatt smile was on full display as he nearly bounced in his place.

“Oh this explains so much,” Patton’s voice was fractionally louder, but luckily he didn’t talk over a stage whisper, “That’s why you were so overjoyed to have a room next to him-”

“We drew straws, Patton. That was purely up to luck.”

“-And why you’re always together studying or getting food or hanging out-”

“You’re reading too into it.”

“-And all the _looks_! Oh my gosh, how could I not notice it sooner?! You practically make bedroom eyes at each other whenever you guys are left alone in a room together for more than ten seconds! This makes so much sense,” Patton talked circles around Virgil, and he couldn’t do much to stop Patton. What would he do anyway? Deny everything? After basically shouting it at the top of his lungs that he did, indeed, love Roman very much (in his own way)?

Virgil cleared his throat, drawing Patton’s attention back to him, before sighing and putting on the most miserable face he could, “Patton, you can’t tell him. Please. He’ll hate me.”

Patton sobered, smiling softly down at Virgil. Something about the look put Virgil on edge.

“Maybe you should go talk to him, bud,” Patton said carefully, a knowing glint in his eye. Panic shot through Virgil’s like ice, freezing him immediately. He didn’t stay like that long, though, before sitting up sharply. He hissed at the sudden movement, but it didn’t deter him from moving out of the bed. Patton watched him stand, brows furrowed in worry.

“What happened last night, Patton,” Virgil asked, pacing in front of Patton’s closet in tight circles, hands running through his hair continuously. Patton’s smile had dimmed considerable, lips pulled tight into a straight line as he watched Virgil pace.

“I...don’t know. I just know Roman dragged me into his room in a panic. He wasn’t making a lot of sense, but whatever you said struck something in him,” Patton chose his words carefully, but it didn’t matter. Virgil had stopped in his tracks, arms blocking his face from Patton, posture rigid.

“I hurt him,” Virgil’s voice caught in his throat, barely above a whisper, throat constricting in panic. He felt the burn of tears pooling behind his eyes because he remembered.

He told Roman he couldn’t talk.

He told Roman it was him.

Roman left.

_Oh god._

Virgil clapped his hands over his mouth, sucking in a sharp breath as he remembered the stupid scene and his stupid emotions and his _stupid feelings-_

“Virgil, you have to go talk to him,” Patton had moved next to Virgil, gently taking his hands away from his face and wiping away a stray tear that had somehow escaped Virgil’s eye. “He’s in the kitchen, I think. Go talk to him. I think he’s beating himself up about this just as much as you are.”

Virgil didn’t need much more encouragement than that. It was one thing for Virgil to sit and stew in this self-pity, but he wasn’t about to drag his crush into this as well.

Virgil, despite the queasiness of his stomach still, rushed through the apartment, rounding the corner into the kitchen and finding Roman seated at the breakfast bar, back turned to the newcomer. Virgil could just tell from the way Roman was seated that he was definitely not okay.

“Roman,” Virgil called quietly, making the man jump and whirl around, staring wide-eyed at the pale boy in the doorway. He looked a mess, if Virgil was being honest. His bedhead was everywhere, his polo from last night rumpled and dark circles lining his bottom lids. Despite all of that, he was still so goddamn beautiful. So, so beautiful.

“Virgil,” Roman’s voice was hollow and his eyes slid down to Virgil’s socks, causing a tug in Virgil’s heart in the most unpleasant way, “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” Virgil shifted from foot to foot, unsure if he should step further into the room or retreat back to the safety of his bedroom. Even if he did, though, it wasn’t gonna fix whatever he did last night. And that was the worst part about all of this. He couldn’t leave the one he loved in pain.

Minutes passed as Virgil and Roman looked at everything in their under-decorated kitchen aside from each other. Virgil’s skin was crawling and he didn’t even know how to begin to apologize. Seconds later, though, Roman cleared his throat, daring to look towards the other man.

“I’m sorry,” Roman sighed, and suddenly any rigidness he had in his body was released with those two words. He turned around on the stool, slumping against the breakfast bar and letting his head fall forward, “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was me that was making drink. I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, Roman, I-,” Virgil started before his tongue crawled into the back of his throat. Fresh tears were on the cusp of showing themselves, and he didn’t know if he could fight them back this early in the morning. “I didn’t mean it. It’s not you, Roman. It could never be you.”

Roman lifted his head at that, meeting Virgil’s eyes. He must have been convinced because the worry lines on his forehead smoothed just the slightest bit. Virgil crossed the kitchen, standing before the man of his dreams and leveled him with his most convincing stare.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you and Patton and Logan worry. I just...suck...so much at...a lot,” Virgil could feel his pride slipping through his fingers, but honestly, that was gone the minute Roman left him in that bathroom. “You guys didn’t deserve my stupid way of dealing with my self-loathing just because I don’t know how to handle my feelings like a child.”

Tears were streaming down his face before he could begin to hide them in shame, and Roman reached up to quickly wipe on off his cheek, almost like he was moving on autopilot before he realized what he was doing. As quickly as he reached out, his hand was gone, dropping next to his side in a flash. Virgil would have blushed if his face wasn’t currently red from shame. God, he hated crying in front of Roman.

When Virgil had finally calmed down enough to breathe somewhat regularly, he straightened up a bit, pinning Roman with a look he hoped translated as sure and not racked with anxiety, “I get so fucked up because of you, Roman.”

Roman’s face fell immediately, and Virgil rushed to explain before he broke his heart all over again.

“You make me stupid sometimes. You make me feel stupid, and careless, and foolish, and it’s wonderful. You’re wonderful,” Virgil couldn’t filter the words coming out of his mouth at all anymore apparently, “You’re so funny and kind and you always help out where you can and you’re so talented and I feel so stupid sometimes because I fell in love with someone so out of my league that it kills me sometimes.”

Virgil couldn’t meet Roman’s eyes. He didn’t want to look into the eyes of the man he loved as he was shot down. He didn’t think he could handle it.

“Virge,” Roman whispered, voice so soft that Virgil had to look at him. Roman had the gentlest smile on his face, one that would make Virgil sing love songs about if he had absolutely no pride whatsoever. Roman’s eyes glittered with warmth, and suddenly Virgil was hot from head to toe. “I think I’m the idiot. I’ve been trying to tell you since freshman year how deeply, hopelessly, tragically in love with you I am.”

Virgil’s face dropped into shock, lips falling open as his brain worked overtime to comprehend what Roman just said.

_Roman...him...in love?_

“ _Ohthankgod_ ,” Virgil sighed, dropping his shoulders and allowing a smile to pull at his cheeks. He looked at Roman through his bangs, suddenly incredible shy around Roman. Roman, the man that just admitted to him that he’s been in love with him since freshman year.

Roman’s grin was beautiful, still just a tiny bit tired, but so full of adoration that Virgil felt the affection like a heat wave. Roman’s eyes quickly scanned Virgil’s body, and Virgil remember very abruptly that he was not donning a shirt of any kind.

Roman climbed off the stool, smiling as he leaned it to give Virgil a quick kiss on the cheek before whispering into Virgil’s ear, “I’ve always thought you looked good shirtless.”

As Roman moved around Virgil, exiting the kitchen, Virgil knew.

He was so, _so far gone._


End file.
